Please Allow me to Pay the Bill

Struggling in the sixties to advance oneself in society was an easy choice for me. Either you wanted more in of life, or you settled for where you were and never gave a thought to leaving you biological family.

There are formulas for monetary success; however societal success is another thing. Knowing what components make up a successful formula is a daunting task for one without familial experience other than subsistence survival. My first step was to get out of where I was, so I quit high school, left my Midwestern town, my Teamster family, and close relatives to join the Army. That was upward mobility for me with the promise of high adventure in the paratroopers.

I believed strongly no one was better than me and I could take on any obstacles that may come my way. Little did I know about sergeants and officers and their authority privileges. These were lessons I learned quickly and was rewarded with promotion and and rank. I wanted terribly to be accepted by authoritative, educated, and wealthy people. It would be a ticket for my journey onward...so I thought.

After a tour in Berlin I was honorably discharged from the Army with full benefits and was ready to take on civilized society. There were stumbling blocks and barriers to go around and climb over to be sure. Up until this time in my worldly growth I had never been embarrassed by anything, being to curious, or to naïve to recognize when these moments occurred.

With a welcome reply from my father, I moved to Virginia in the mid-sixties to visit him, a man I had never known, as he gave me up as a baby. The move was a step forward in my quest to find myself and explore my potential as a businessman and member of a higher social level than where I started. Dad was a graduate of Washington and Lee University, had a high-powered job in Washington D.C. and going to live with him promised I was destined for better things in life. I could bask in his status as he introduced me to other successful people.

My first introduction was to his brother-in-law, my aunt's husband, a notable wood sculpture artist living and working among the rich of Warrenton, Virginia. He in turn introduced me to another world renowned painter who promptly offered one of his several studios on his mountain estate for a meager rent I could afford. I shook his hand and told him how grateful I was.

After moving into my small piece of paradise my host came by to introduce me to his two sons that also lived on the mountain. They were both University of Virginia grads and the oldest had served as a Marine in Viet Nam. As a Company Commander he had stepped on a land mine and lost half of his right leg. The other son was a businessman looking after family interests. I had my military service in common with the older brother and a new friendship looked to be in the making.

I was invited to a cocktail party on the mountain and met several more very fun and smart people. I admit, I was slightly intimidated but , never-the-less, had a great time. They all seemed to welcome me into their cocktail circle. Shortly thereafter I was invited to play tennis and I had to informed them that I had never played. They were more than willing and happy to teach me and over the next few months I got good enough to play in their foursomes.

My life was good and my lack of social graces was losing ground. The youngest brother mentioned he was going to the local haberdashery for a few new shirts. He asked if I would like to go along. I agreed and we hopped in his new corvette convertible and cruised down to a historical street downtown. My wardrobe was horribly dated and nowhere near their style and if I wanted to keep up I needed new threads. I had tennis whites but little else other than jeans and tennis shoes. I felt out of place, especially around the girls.

I watched my new friend try on blazers, sweaters, slacks and shirts. I'm sure my eyes grew wide as I realized how clothes could not only make others notice, but how they increased one's sense of self-confidence and assurance. I didn't buy anything that day but returned later by myself so I could take my time and get the best value I could for my money. I outfitted myself in Preppy ware, purchased my first pair of Bass Weejun's, chino trousers, three button down shirts, a couple regimental ties and a European Ribbed Surcingle belt. After spending a few hundred dollars I began feeling quite confident in my appearance and was ready for the future events offered on the mountain.

It was football season, and the UVA fans were worked up and ready for one of their big games. I was invited to a pregame cocktail party at their country club. That was a big deal to me, having never been to a country club, let alone the Williamsburg Country club. There were twenty or so of the brother's closest friends all gather in an private alcove near the bar area. A lot of booze was flowing. After my shopping spree I was short on cash and drank just one martini. Game time drew near and we all were to go to one of the wealthy homes of our party group to watch the ABC televised game.

In my blue-collar world, one carries his own weight. by that I mean he pays his own way. As we were to leave I asked for my bill only to be told it had been taken care of. I insisted on paying my own bill at the Williamsburg Country Club against my hosts wishes. The bartender sensing my discomfort, allowed me to pay my one drink $1.75 bar bill. I had no cash, so I wrote a him a personal check with a .25 cent tip, not realizing my clothing spending spree had wiped over-drawn my account. A couple days later I received a notice in the mail that my check had bounced.